Song of the Greeks
Again to the battle, Achaians!Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance;Our land, the first garden of Liberty’s tree—It has been, and shall yet be the land of the free:For the cross of our faith is replanted,The pale dying crescent is daunted,And we march that the foot-prints of Mahomet’s slavesMay be washed out in blood from our forefathers’ graves.Their spirits are hovering o’er us,And the sword shall to glory restore us.
Ah! what though no succour advances,Nor Christendom’s chivalrous lancesAre stretched in our aid—be the combat our own!And we’ll perish or conquer more proudly alone;For we’ve sworn by our Country’s assaulters,By the virgins they’ve dragged from our altars,By our massacred patriots, our children in chains,By our heroes of old and their blood in our veins.That living, we shall be victorious,Or that dying, our deaths shall be glorious.
A breath of submission we breathe not;The sword that we’ve drawn we will sheathe not!Its scabbard is left where our martyrs are laid,And the vengeance of ages has whetted its blade.Earth may hide—waves engulph—fire consume us,But they shall not to slavery doom us:If they rule, it shall be o’er our ashes and graves;But we’ve smote them already with fire on the waves,And new triumphs on land are before us,To the charge!—Heaven’s banner is o’er us.
This day shall ye blush for its story,Or brighten your lives with its glory.Our women, oh, say, shall they shriek in despair,Or embrace us from conquest with wreaths in their hair?Accursed may his memory blacken,If a coward there be that would slackenTill we’ve trampled the turban and shown ourselves worthBeing sprung from and named for the godlike of earth.Strike home, and the world shall revere usAs heroes descended from heroes.
Old Greece lightens up with emotionHer inlands, her isles of the Ocean;Fanes rebuilt and fair towns shall with jubilee ring,And the Nine shall new-hallow their Helicon’s spring:Our hearths shall be kindled in gladness,That were cold and extinguished in sadness;Whilst our maidens shall dance with their white-waving arms,Singing joy to the brave that delivered their charms,When the blood of yon Mussulman cravensShall have purpled the beaks of our ravens.
Words in this poem
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- succour v. t.
- tiono run to, or run to support; hence, to help or relieve when in difficulty, want, or distress; to assist and deliver from suffering; to relieve; as, to succor a besieged city. [OE. socouren, OF. sucurre, soucourre, secorre, F. secourir, L. succurrere, succursum, to run under, run to the aid of, help, succor; sub under + currere to run.]
- christendom n.
- The profession of faith in Christ by baptism; hence, the Christian religion, or the adoption of it. [AS. cristend; cristen a Christian + -dom.]
- glorious a.
- Exhibiting attributes, qualities, or acts that are worthy of or receive glory; noble; praiseworthy; excellent; splendid; illustrious; inspiring admiration; as, glorious deeds. [OF. glorios, glorious, F. glorieux, fr. L. gloriosus. See Glory, n.]
- brighten v. t.
- To make bright or brighter; to make to shine; to increase the luster of; to give a brighter hue to.
- revere v. t.
- To regard with reverence, or profound respect and affection, mingled with awe or fear; to venerate; to reverence; to honor in estimation. [L. revereri; pref. re- re- + vereri to fear, perh. akin to E. wary: cf. F. révérer.]
- sadness n.
- Heaviness; firmness.
- mussulman n.
- A Mohammedan; a Moslem. [Ar. muslimin, pl. of muslim: cf. F. & Sp. musulman. See Moslem.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Song of the Greeks is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poetical Works of Thomas Campbell, Project Gutenberg ebook #59788; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Thomas Campbell, Song of the Greeks, in The Pleasures of Hope, and Other Poems (1824), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #59788, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/campbell-poems/song-of-the-greeks.html, id L24409.
Form and metre
Song of the Greeks is 50 lines in 5 stanzas of 10 lines each. It is in rhyming couplets, 92% of the lines: heroic couplets. This poem did not settle on a metre of its own; the book it comes from is in iambic pentameter.
See other poems in heroic couplets, other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 AABB--CCDD achaiansA · defianceA · treeB · freeB · replanted · daunted · slavesC · gravesC · usD · usD
- 2 AABBCCDDEE advancesA · lancesA · ownB · aloneB · assaultersC · altarsC · chainsD · veinsD · victoriousE · gloriousE
- 3 AABBCCDDCC notA · notA · laidB · bladeB · usC · usC · gravesD · wavesD · usC · usC
- 4 AABBCCDD-- storyA · gloryA · despairB · hairB · blackenC · slackenC · worthD · earthD · us · heroes
- 5 AABBCCDDEE emotionA · oceanA · ringB · springB · gladnessC · sadnessC · armsD · charmsD · cravensE · ravensE
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Again to the battle, Achaians! | 8 | ˘/··/˘·· |
| Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance; | 10 | /˘···/˘˘/˘ |
| Our land, the first garden of Liberty’s tree— | 10 | /···/˘·/˘· |
| It has been, and shall yet be the land of the free: | 12 | ············ |
| For the cross of our faith is replanted, | 11 | ····/˘··˘/˘ |
| The pale dying crescent is daunted, | 9 | ··/˘/˘·/˘ |
| And we march that the foot-prints of Mahomet’s slaves | 12 | ············ |
| May be washed out in blood from our forefathers’ graves. | 12 | ·······//·˘· |
| Their spirits are hovering o’er us, | 9 | ·/˘·/˘˘·· |
| And the sword shall to glory restore us. | 10 | ·····/˘˘/· |
| Ah! what though no succour advances, | 9 | ····/˘˘/˘ |
| Nor Christendom’s chivalrous lances | 9 | ·/˘˘/˘˘/˘ |
| Are stretched in our aid—be the combat our own! | 11 | ···/···/˘/· |
| And we’ll perish or conquer more proudly alone; | 12 | ··/˘·/˘·/˘˘/ |
| For we’ve sworn by our Country’s assaulters, | 10 | ····//˘··· |
| By the virgins they’ve dragged from our altars, | 11 | ··/˘···/˘/˘ |
| By our massacred patriots, our children in chains, | 11 | ·//˘/˘//˘·· |
| By our heroes of old and their blood in our veins. | 12 | ·//˘······/· |
| That living, we shall be victorious, | 10 | ·/˘···˘/˘˘ |
| Or that dying, our deaths shall be glorious. | 11 | ··/˘/···/˘˘ |
| A breath of submission we breathe not; | 9 | ···˘/˘··· |
| The sword that we’ve drawn we will sheathe not! | 9 | ········· |
| Its scabbard is left where our martyrs are laid, | 11 | ·/˘···//˘·· |
| And the vengeance of ages has whetted its blade. | 12 | ··/˘·/˘·/˘·· |
| Earth may hide—waves engulph—fire consume us, | 10 | ······/˘/· |
| But they shall not to slavery doom us: | 10 | ·····/˘˘·· |
| If they rule, it shall be o’er our ashes and graves; | 12 | ·······//˘·· |
| But we’ve smote them already with fire on the waves, | 12 | ····˘/˘·/··· |
| And new triumphs on land are before us, | 10 | ··/˘······ |
| To the charge!—Heaven’s banner is o’er us. | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| This day shall ye blush for its story, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Or brighten your lives with its glory. | 9 | ·/˘····/˘ |
| Our women, oh, say, shall they shriek in despair, | 11 | //˘······˘/ |
| Or embrace us from conquest with wreaths in their hair? | 12 | ·˘/··/˘····· |
| Accursed may his memory blacken, | 9 | ····/˘˘/˘ |
| If a coward there be that would slacken | 10 | ··/˘····/˘ |
| Till we’ve trampled the turban and shown ourselves worth | 12 | ··/˘·/˘··˘/· |
| Being sprung from and named for the godlike of earth. | 11 | /······/˘·· |
| Strike home, and the world shall revere us | 9 | ······˘/· |
| As heroes descended from heroes. | 9 | ·/˘˘/˘·/˘ |
| Old Greece lightens up with emotion | 9 | ··/˘··/˘˘ |
| Her inlands, her isles of the Ocean; | 9 | ·/·····/˘ |
| Fanes rebuilt and fair towns shall with jubilee ring, | 12 | ·˘/·····/˘·· |
| And the Nine shall new-hallow their Helicon’s spring: | 12 | ·····/˘·/˘·· |
| Our hearths shall be kindled in gladness, | 10 | /˘···/˘·/˘ |
| That were cold and extinguished in sadness; | 10 | ····˘/˘·/˘ |
| Whilst our maidens shall dance with their white-waving arms, | 12 | ·//˘·····/˘· |
| Singing joy to the brave that delivered their charms, | 12 | /˘·····˘/˘·· |
| When the blood of yon Mussulman cravens | 10 | ·····/˘˘/˘ |
| Shall have purpled the beaks of our ravens. | 11 | ··/˘···/˘/˘ |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.